The safety tickle

The first word was fuck.
Fuck, the nerd of ingestion—
it came in like and was a truck
doing deepthroat as shoulders went—
sideways just see this if it can be—
in, punching every slimy knot—
talks itself through and through,
miser of relief, three quarters of evil
if one was once a word man—
see it, stop, see it, ignore then—
move around move around stop
you fucking thing of loudness.
If you shit think of me please.
Beating or moaning in the chest—
mine is complex, like puzzles—
yours is complex reader so purge
as simple to place and the agony
of digesting it afterward how—
well humanity can’t make it gone
or can it being strong as stupid smart—
think sure, be silly and simple—
all a thinking man should say is cunt,
he is beyond the fade, be blunt—
though the sell twists itself on
an altar of every man so young
those mouths on marathon—
of genes forget they too are eyes
and let’s drop words for Hansel—
your thoughts die so do otherwise—
crawl on my back, I do—jujitsu—
and like flies more legged in the house—
your frenching. A snake is better,
any snake, the garter or killer—
I freak of course for crawling—
killer—I’ve seen you naked as walls—
my profession didn’t you know is curses—
freedom’s coming, it’s a dumb ball of locusts—
what guilt my thoughts for no guilt,
I am a steel dick to the hilt
of this dead idiot that broke my head
and opened it—the idiot—
help me up, tell me to get up
or—kill all the wheat growers for
their penchant of dealing I won’t say.
Just tell me and let me throw on you—
how do you lick my bill—
why the easy of calling by name you,
you are more than a syllable
though it’s what we’ll call aliens too—
Indian thirst—abusing these hours—
designed hurt said the demon burst—
get up stand up or let me down—
your baby’s wrist is ticking—
a bomb signed ventricle, mover
hurt is necessary and more necessary
and more than more is needed
you fucking cold fool—
Christ is a living patient—
I got his meds—got his ropes
in what I lie on spermy as folk—
while all the frenching heals.
The white room. Endure houses
solid as houses are, or for metaphor
the ticking of mortar begging freedom,
honey take such—loose us everyone—
I, God, oh God do I decide too—
is mine a killer lung—anthrax—
I’ll wax insane like the wicked—
or the boyish, fiendish for certain
little thrills or crazy pleasures—
look at anything to smile.
Smile at the nigger of your abdomen.
Look like you, white as night.
I’ll fight a dog’s tooth wild
in creeping blackout, the out—
I’ll take it—in every plaqued slinker—
well an organelle is swell for me—
don’t need much simple man small tissue
is what I’ll give the bum of clauses—
give him not shit kind but young you
as the splinter no tree who—
he was male technically thus murder
of shorter bushes ensued—
never care the goddamned greens—
the thought of tissue—groping—
pleasure at struggling muscle—
got none—but may regard those of—
to lie, like—no more lies then,
baby battle, are you nodding
or stuck in a bull’s ass?


~ by Jeremy on May 19, 2011.

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